


Crash

by stars_inthe_sky



Series: Motions [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Counter Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Kitchen Sex, Nighttime, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/pseuds/stars_inthe_sky
Summary: Natasha's fluffy pink bathrobe has got to go.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MedeaV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaV/gifts).



> [medeafive](http://medeafive.tumblr.com/) prompted "nightly meeting(s) in the kitchen."

“There’s hot water in the kettle, if you’re here for tea,” Natasha says from her barstool perch.

Bucky nods as he ambles to the other side of the kitchen island and locates a mug. “Thanks. I was wondering if I’d see you here again tonight.”

“I don’t sleep much, either,” she shrugs. At the look on his face, she adds, “What? Is it the robe?”

“I was wondering about that, too,” he admits, dunking a teabag into his cup. “It’s, uh, very fluffy. And pink.”

Natasha shrugs again, shifting the neckline to reveal a bare expanse of shoulder. “Well, it’s comfy, and absorbent, and anyone who’s gonna see me in it should know better than to consider mocking it. Plus…even on a night like this, it’s warm enough to wear without anything underneath.” She grins, showing teeth.

Bucky’s jaw goes slack and his hand freezes in midair as he slowly blinks. After a pause, he recovers enough to say, “Gotta admit, I was thinking of asking what it’d take to—”

“Get it off,” she interrupts, and it’s not clear if it’s she’s finishing his sentence or giving him an order, but suddenly she’s climbed halfway onto the countertop and he’s cupping her face with both hands, fingertips tangled in her hair as their lips meet.

He kisses like he fights, single-minded and with full strength, knowing she can take it. Natasha responds in kind, swinging her lower body around to his side of the counter and pulling him closer, so his bare chest is flush against the thick chenille of her robe and her legs are locked around the thin sweatpants covering his hips.

She slips one hand under the terrycloth to palm his ass while the other fidgets with his drawstring, but she freezes with a quiet moan when he moves his mouth to a sensitive spot just below her earlobe and then down her neck to her shoulder. A shiver of adrenaline passes through both of them, and she recovers at least in part, giving up on the drawstring in favor of simply reaching down to stroke his already hardening dick.

Bucky grunts as her calloused fingers tighten around his shaft, and he nudges the robe off of her shoulder, bracing himself against the counter with one hand and using the other to loosen the tie on her robe and then yank it off the other shoulder. Natasha tilts her head back, arching her back.

His hand and mouth fly to her breasts as if magnetized. She groans his given name, barely pronouncing the consonants, while pulling his hips flush with hers. His sweatpants fall to the floor, and she braces herself to rub against his erection, teasing the tip and heightening her own arousal.

“You have—the most perfect—breasts—in the whole—damn world,” he breathes, tongue circling her already-hard nipple. “Why the hell—this fucking robe—?”

“Told you,” she gasps, as he sucks at her skin, hard enough to leave a mark. “Comfy. And I had to convince you— _ahh, milii moi_ —to rip off my clothes—somehow.”

At that, he pauses, leaning back just enough to finish undoing the belt of her robe, which she shrugs fully out of. “Natalia,” he says, voice rough and husky, “All you had to do was ask.”

“Good to know,” she retorts. “Now, get inside me. _Vy ponimayete_?”

“ _Da, dorogoya_.” He guides himself into her, surging bodily forward once their bodies align. She locks her ankles behind the small of his back, almost lifting herself off the countertop as she urges him deeper, tangling one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. Her other hand wraps around his metal wrist, now bearing their shared weight against the granite.

Bucky kisses her fiercely, pawing each of breasts in turn as their hips pulse against each other. She gasps again when he shifts the angle slightly, and he quickens their pace, breathing rapidly.

Natasha groans a near-indecipherable string of Russian curses into his shoulder as she comes, every muscle tensing around him, which sends Bucky into the throes of an orgasm like he hasn’t felt in decades. She whimpers his name, over and over, with each thrust, and they ride the shared rhythm through to its end.

It’s a full minute before either can catch their breath enough to move, let alone speak. Natasha draws the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead, panting with relief; Bucky twitches inside of her, just once more, drawing a contented squeak out of her.

“Tell you what,” he suggests, pulling out with a delicious slowness. “I’ll clean this up _and_ make more tea, if you go burn that robe _immediately_.” She grins and fails to suppress a full-throated laugh when he adds, “I promise to be more proactive about ripping off your clothes in the future.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 [Buckynat Smutathon](http://fuckyeahbuckynatasha.tumblr.com/tagged/buckynat-smutathon). 
> 
> I own none of the characters, but I do own that bathrobe. (It's terrifically cozy and incredibly unsexy.)


End file.
